This collage of tears and laughter,Wanderings toward promise and much laterWhat seems the murder of the Promise.Of Isaac freed and Jephthah’s daughter burnt,Of Hannah’s prayers
for Carl Schalk The composer’s vision lacks centers, he says,The music he writes must fit into his peripheries.Even so, God’s glory dazzles the scores like
Here and now and not yet—like a child in the everpresent,cradling in the palm a rockand finding it a world.
How we come to language, the little ones,testing the percussive syllables of ba and na as if reciting the letters of Arabic.No wonder our letters
baby girl Gilmartin, b. Feb. 2, 1970, d. Feb. 2, 1970 after Sean Thomas Dougherty there is a spacein the universewhere youdo not exist:the breathyou
This year, the ash came to us. It floated down, almost beautifully, landing on our windshields, our lawn chairs, and our eyelashes.We coughed on it and
Fallowing soil is a method of sustainable land management used by farmers for centuries . . . Arable land lies unsown,unplowed, unvisited except by noiselesscreatures going
Genesis 16 I stumble in desperate headlong flightfrom the sharp bite of a woman emptyof what her god has promised enviousof what seems to be
Judges 13:18 I was out in the field where the wheatgrows golden in the heat of the afternoon sunwhen the grain parted & you came
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